


Honestly, I Just Do Tech

by Cookiemonster2000



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Acting AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Friendship, GIVE PIDGE SLEEP 2K19, Lance is the most extra person you ever will meet, Mutual Pining, Pidge | Katie Holt is So Done, Sleep Deprivation, Sort Of, carpool, no it's literally a drama production fic, not me in this they are Pure, why do ppl make these children swear so much in fics???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookiemonster2000/pseuds/Cookiemonster2000
Summary: Lance stared dreamily at the ceiling. "When I'm through with this show, all the girls will want me to sweep them off their feet. . . maybe evenyou,Pidge!"She snorted, barely glancing up from the mic she was fiddling with. "Keep dreaming, Lance."Hunk desperately needs someone to help him work tech this year. Naturally, he drags Pidge into it--and thus, forces her to begin spending time with the incorrigible Lance McClain.





	1. Drama King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance makes a somewhat embarrassing mistake meeting Pidge for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This hilarious oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862605) inspired a random scene I thought of while watching a high school production: what if Lance saw Pidge up on deck working the lights/sound and performed his speech to her?
> 
> Naturally a high school au longfic was born if this. I don't have a problem at all,,,

"No."

 

Hunk sighed heavily and slumped down in his chair. "Oh, _come on,_ Pidge. You know--okay, I wouldn't ask for this kind of a favor normally, because I know how much you like keeping to yourself and I totally respect your privacy--"

 

"Liar! I know you've gone through my notebooks looking for my ciphers," Pidge shot back. "If my diary wasn't coded, you'd have already memorized it."

 

Hunk whistles innocently. "While that may or may not be true--"

 

"It _is_ true. I've caught you so many--"

 

"--It's _also_ true that I need a crew partner who actually knows her way around tech."

 

He clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, half-considering. Hunk knew her soft spots, and flattery was most certainly one of them.

 

"Please, Pidge,” he continued. “You won't even need to talk to anybody, really! Just show up for an hour after school and help me set up the lights, the music, the set--you literally get to sit up in the balcony most of the time."

 

Pidge pursed her lips. "Am I going to be alone."

 

"Mmmmmost of the time."

 

She sighed and threw up her hands. "Okay! Fine! I will check out tryouts. Absolutely _no_ long-term promises until I know exactly what I’m getting into."

 

He gasped, delighted. "Ohmygoshthankyousomuch--!"

 

"But only because I know you're going to bug me forever if I don't," she finished, smirking a bit.

 

Hunk shot her a huge smile. "I'll take what I can get! Maybe now I can finally get you to talk to Lance. I know you guys would be, like, best buds." He pauses. "You both drive me up the wall."

 

"It's a fair cop." Pidge rolled her eyes. "But I've seen this dude in the hallway, flirting with every girl he lays eyes on. Doesn't seem like the type of person you'd get along with, honestly."

 

"He's the type of person to get you to loosen up a bit."

 

A warning look.

 

"I--I mean you in, like, a general sense, not you specifically!" Hunk corrected himself, arms flailing. "Look, just--I'll introduce you, if you don't like him, you never have to talk to him again. But give him a chance, all right? I'd never say this to his face--ego's big enough as it is--but I really like the guy. He's . . . actually almost as cool as he thinks he is."

 

"You are not selling me on this dude." Pidge deadpanned. "Quit while you're behind."

 

Hunk, as always, read her correctly and drops the subject. "I'll tell Coran you're gonna be helping out tomorrow night. Oh, this is gonna be so fun!" he exclaimed, snagging his backpack and heading for the exit.

 

She rolled her eyes at him, smirking. "If you say so."

 

"Oh, I do."

 

His head popped back around the corner.

 

“By the way, they’re called _auditions_ , not try-outs--”

 

“Oh, go away!”

* * *

 

 

Pidge was almost finished with her homework when a text popped up on her desktop.

 

Hunk: hey pidge!

Hunk: do you have the notes from AP history? I forgot them and I'd like to study tonight haha

 

She frowned.

 

You: Yes, why? We don’t have any homework tonight.

Hunk: …

Hunk: pidge.

Hunk: did you forget about the test tomorrow?

You: What?

You: The test isn’t until Wednesday.

Hunk: yeah?

You: … Next Wednesday.

Hunk: pidge

Hunk: they announced that last week

Hunk: it’s tuesday

You: No, I’m pretty sure that was on Friday.

Hunk: LOOK AT OUR SYLLABUS, PIDGE!

You: Ok, I’m pulling it up, but only so that--

You: Oh shoot.

Hunk: notes?

You: Sending them.

 

Pidge slumped down in her seat and groaned, dragging her hands over her face. How could she possibly have forgotten when the test was? She was the most organized person she knew!

 

There was nothing for it. She yanked her binder out of her backpack with more ferocity than strictly necessary, and took a few pictures.

 

Hunk: thanks. don't stay up too late now!

Hunk: want you to be awake for auditions, after all.

You: Ughhhhhh.

 

Trust Hunk to remind her of her dumb promise from earlier at the worst possible moment. Pidge's finger hovered over the screen as she internally debated whether or not to cancel.

 

Hunk: and you can't cancel because, and I quote…

Hunk: “the word of a Holt is law”!

You: Thin ice, buddy.

Hunk: :D

Hunk: but for reals, can't wait for tomorrow.

Hunk: night!

You: Goodnight.

You: By which I mean, time to buckle down for another all nighter.

Hunk: lol. good luck, smarty-pants

 

Pidge sighed through her fond smile. It was hard to believe that she and Hunk had gotten off to such a rough start to their friendship a few months back. Now, team Punk was thriving--she couldn't help but enjoy the big guy's company, even if his constant anxious complaining got on her nerves a bit.

 

But enough reminiscing; it was time to slay the beast that was AP history studying.

* * *

 

Last night had been a huge mistake.

 

Staying up until 2 to ensure all her work was done and all the information was in her head may have earned Pidge an “A” on the test, but sleepless nights always took a toll on her note taking abilities. She found herself drowsing off during Trigonometry--to the snickers of her classmates-- and snoozing into her yogurt at lunch. All this to say nothing about the fact that she hadn't realized until she was on the bus that she was still wearing Matt's old clothes that she swiped as pajamas for comfort, and her hair was unbrushed. So when the final bell rang, Pidge was headed for the door with the usual crowd.

 

Hunk, naturally, caught her in the hallway. “Awesome, Pidge! Just the girl I was looking for,” be called, waving. “You ready to dazzle the drama teacher with your tech genius and be my partner all semester?”

 

Pidge bit her lip. “Um, Hunk… about that.”

 

Hunk's face fell. “You're not ditching, are you?”

 

One look at that face and Pidge was scrambling to revise her prepared speech. “No! Nonono, of course not. I'm just… really tired is all, and…”

 

“Oh, don't even worry about it!” Hunk reassured. “You can wait in the balcony, I'll get you the key. Cor-- Mr. Smyth probably won't have a spare moment until later, you can just watch from up there. I’ll get him to visit you when he’s ready.”

 

A rest away from the noise didn't sound _terrible_. “Are you sure it'd be ok?” she asked hesitantly.

 

Hunk was already fishing through his pockets for the key. “Of course it is! Here--” he tosses it-- “go enjoy your break.”

 

Pidge caught it and offered her friend a tight-lipped smile. “Okay. Thanks, Hunk.”

 

“My pleasure,” he grinned back.

 

Fumbling with the key and unlocking the door that led to the stairs, Pidge took a deep breath. The stairway was too dark to find the light switch, so she headed up without it, careful to take small steps.

 

The balcony was dimly lit, thankfully. Spattered around was bits of equipment, old and new, that she didn’t recognize. Pidge sat down in the folding chair someone had left near the edge and rested her chin on her arms on the balcony overhang, looking down on the groups of chattering students below. With some surprise, she noted that someone was standing up on a chair, singing loudly, several around him clapping. She suppressed a sigh of disgust and closed her eyes. _Damn theater kids._

 

After a moment, her brow furrowed, and her eyes opened again. The noise was simply too loud and rambunctious to relax. She reached into her bag and pulled out her old headphones, pulling them on and nuzzling back down into her arms as her favorite calming playlist began. She had plenty of time to wait for Hunk and Mr. Smyth.

 

A few minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

 

 

 

“You come up here to rock out?”

 

Pidge, mostly asleep, didn’t feel the headphone being softly lifted away until the obnoxious male voice hit her ears from much, _much_ too close. Instantly wide awake, she shrieked and fell forwards, a flailing hand smacking the offender in the face.

 

“Ow!” he whined, rubbing his cheek. “Watch it, dude!”

 

Dude?

 

Pidge mentally looked herself up and down and suppressed a facepalm. With Matt's old clothes, her messy hair and these glasses, she could indeed pass for a boy.

 

At least, to somebody _stupid_. As this guy clearly was. She took another moment to squint at this guy--ah, of course. It was Him, Hunk’s friend, the one he wanted to introduce her to--that explained why he was up here. The polite thing to do would be to introduce herself.

 

“What do you want, man?” Pidge demanded, pulling away from him and backing into the corner.

 

He lifted his arms in the air in a peacemaking gesture. “I was just trying to find a friend of a friend. Clearly, she’s not here.” He perked up. “Did you happen to see her?”

 

Pidge was in no mood to contradict him, opting instead to play along with her assigned role of “male-loser-hanging-out-on-the-balcony-for-some-reason”. “You were looking for someone else, so you decided to wake _me_ up?”

 

He blinked, a guilty look suddenly replacing the smile. “You were asleep?”

 

“Ughhhh.” Pidge rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her messy hair. “Who is it you’re looking for?”

 

“Katie Holt?” He phrased it like a question. Pidge gave him a look.

 

“Hunk introduced me as Katie?” she demanded.

 

The boy shook his head. “No, he. . . wait.”

 

“Hey, Pidge--oh! You met Lance!”

 

The door behind them opened and in came Hunk, followed closely by the violently redheaded, mustachioed drama teacher. Pidge scrambled to sit up straight, fixing her glasses. “Mr. Smyth!”

 

“Please, call me Coran!” He stuck out his hand. ‘Hunk here tells me you’re going to help out with the more technical aspects of the production?”

 

“Yeah, I can do that.” Pidge shook his hand, wincing at the enthusiastic man’s grip.

 

“Well, it certainly is a delight to see younger students getting interested in drama! You’re more of a sciency-type, aren’t you, Pidge?”

 

“Honestly, yeah. I’m just here to help out a friend.” She shot Hunk a look halfway between “you’re my friend and I care about you” and “you see the things I do for you?” Hunk grinned in response.

 

“Pidge is a _genius_ with tech. She’ll get the sound systems running properly.” he announced, clapping a hand to her back (which Pidge promptly swatted away). “We had so much trouble with that last year.”

 

“Matthew Holt was the only one holding us together, quite frankly!” Coran chuckled. “Now that he’s graduated, we’re back to square one. Nice to see his sister stepping up to fill his shoes--and more so, might I add!”

 

Pidge was starting to get a headache. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Thankfully, Hunk caught her expression. “Well, now you’ve met. Coran, you’re probably really busy, we wouldn’t want to hold you up!”

 

Coran blinked. “What? But I wanted to--” His eyes flicked to Pidge’s, and realization dawned on his face. “Oh. Oh, of course! We can go over everything next time. Can you come a bit earlier, so we can talk before the rest of the students arrive?”

 

Skip out on Home Ec, the most useless class of all of high school, fifteen minutes early? “Absolutely, I can do that.”

 

“Great!” He flashed her a smile. “I’ll see you then. Lance, get downstairs, unless you want to miss your audition.”

 

Pidge turned to Lance, who, comically, was standing in the same position as when she’d last seen him with an expression of disbelief. “Sorry?”

 

“Get downstairs!” Coran repeated over his shoulder, already walking away.

 

Lance turned to Pidge. She fought back a laugh at his deer-in-the-headlights expression.

 

“I am so sorry.”

 

“Don’t mention it.” His words suddenly brought back the moment of her mistaken identity, she'd nearly forgotten about that--which stung a bit, but she shrugged it off. “You’d better hurry up.”

 

“Ok, yeah, you’re right. Bye, Pidge. See you around, Hunk,” he added, jogging after the drama teacher.

 

Hunk blinked.

 

“What was that all about?”

 

Pidge groaned and slumped down in her seat. “He thought I was a boy.”

 

Everyone down below heard the incredulous cry-- “ _What_??” --from the above.

 

 

 

Okay, she’ll admit it. Pidge woke up enough to watch the junior's auditions from her eagle’s view. She was interested enough in this strange friend of Hunk’s to want to know if she’d be spending her late afternoons listening to his loud, _loud_ voice.

 

It was pretty impressive how he bounded across the stage, merely glancing at the paper he read from as he proclaimed his righteous fury towards the innocent actor standing ten feet away.

 

Pidge rested her chin on her hands and smiled oddly. Lance’s acting was phenomenal, especially for a teenager. He grabbed the interest of the other students waiting--and those hanging around watching for the heck of it--engaging his audience despite the fact that this was the fifth or sixth time they’d heard this exact soliloquy in one afternoon.

 

Laughter broke out as Lance melodramatically dropped to his knees as the other actor awkwardly read out his character’s angry response. Pidge giggled to herself when he lifted his hands to the sky. _This dweeb._

By the time the singing rolled around, though, she was nearly asleep again. Hunk came back and offered her a much less rude awakening than before, and he began the process of explaining how everything worked. Pidge was a fast learner, and paid close attention--if she got it the first time, nothing would have to be re-explained to her later.

 

Soon, Hunk checked his watch and gasped. “Oh, geez. I have to get home. You gonna be okay alone?”

 

Pidge looked up from the sound control box she was fiddling with. “Sure, get out of here.”

 

“Oh, before I go--what did you think of Lance? Besides the whole ‘thinking you’re a boy’ thing.”

 

She pursed her lips. “He’s okay. Pretty loud.”

 

“Kinda like you.”

 

A glare. Hunk laughed, patting her head, dodging when she swatted him away. “Kidding, kidding. You’re only loud when--”

 

“Got it, thanks.” She turned back to the control box. “No, he was funny. Pretty good actor.”

 

“Right?? He’s great!”

 

“Didn’t you have somewhere to go?” Pidge said pointedly.

 

“Right, right. I’ll text you later!” Waving, Hunk made his escape.

 

About a half hour spent half-watching auditions and half-prodding at the tech, auditions were complete. Most students had already filed out once they were finished, so only a few stayed behind. Lance, surprisingly, had stayed back even after he was done, and was now helping Coran and his niece, Allura--some senior girl she and Hunk had taken to calling “princess”, thanks to her near godlike status as daughter of the principal, academic golden girl, and queen bee popularity-wise--move the boxes of paperwork out of the room. Pidge considered helping, but they were pretty much done after one trip, so instead, she flicked off the lights on the balcony and headed down the stairs and out into the crisp autumn air.

 

Only to stop short when she realized.

 

You: Hunk

You: Where’s the bus?

Hunk: did you not plan for a ride home after practice??

You: I ALWAYS TAKE THE BUS!

Hunk: there aren't any buses at this time, pidge

You: WELL WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO???

Hunk: can’t your mom pick you up?

You: She isn’t at home right now, she’s on a trip with Matt!!

You: I complained for a week how I’d have to fend for myself, REMEMBER??

Hunk: shoot.

Hunk: hey wait, lance is still there, right?

 

Pidge snuck a glance sideways through the office window. The guy was still talking to (read: flirting with) Allura in the office as she helped her uncle tidy up.

 

You: Yes.

You: But I am Not asking him for a ride.

Hunk: pidge, he lives two neighborhoods away from you.

Hunk: ask him for a ride.

You: …

You: I don't want to.

Hunk: oh, for goodness sake.

Hunk: whatever, walk home then.

Hunk: see if I care!

You: I will. Thank you.

Hunk: wait did you leave???

Hunk: pidge don't walk home

Hunk: seriously!

Hunk: you know how many strangers there are?

Hunk: who could hurt you??

Hunk: holy crap it's not safe!

Hunk: especially in the evening.

You: Jeez, FINE!!

You: I'LL ASK HIM FOR A RIDE! HAPPY??

Hunk: oh thank god.

Hunk: yes, I am. very happy.

 

_Here goes nothing. . ._

 

Pidge breathed deeply and shoved open the door. The pair were startled by the sound and Lance's mouth snapped shut. Instantly, Allura took the opportunity to casually step away, smiling apologetically. _Very slick, Princess._

 

"Well, I should really be off. See you tomorrow, Mr. McClain!" she said cheerfully, backing away.

 

Pidge rolled her eyes as Lance watched her retreating figure, long hair bouncing behind her as she scurried off. Once he turned back to her, his eyes were somewhat glazed over. Pidge fought the urge to groan in annoyance.

 

"Isn't she _pretty_?" he asked, dazed.

 

"I mean, I guess." Pidge didn't particularly want to reflect on the attractiveness of her senior classmate. She felt just fine in her own skin. It was her habit-albeit a somewhat unhealthy one--to, when she noticed others succeeding where she failed, merely turn a blind eye. Ignoring her own insecurities proved the best way to handle them.

 

So in general, she preferred to focus very little on the looks of anyone--herself or others.

 

"I know we got off on the wrong foot,” she said, dismissing the thought, “but I was wondering if you could do me a tiny favor?"

 

"What do you need?" Lance looked a bit doubtful.

 

"I'm kinda. . . stuck here." Pidge gritted her teeth. "I thought there would be a bus after drama, so I didn't plan to get a ride. . ."

 

Realization dawned on the taller boy's face. "You need a . . . ride home?"

 

"Yes. If that's okay." She squeezed her eyes shut.

 

"No, I'm just trying to figure this," his voice came, and she did not like his tone one _bit_ . "You. Pidge Holt. The most _intelligent_ sophomore in attendance, and--according to Hunk--maybe in the whole school. . . didn't realize there wasn't a bus for after rehearsals?"

 

A flush of irritation crept up her neck. "You know what? Sorry I asked. I'll just walk home." she snapped, storming towards the door.

 

"Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to get all peeved off!" Lance flailed to block her exit, grabbing her shoulder. She glared up at him tersely. "Course I'll give you a ride,” he reassured. “We don't want you walking home. Hunk would kill me if he knew I let you walk home--and besides, that's no way to treat a new friend."

 

"New friend?" she repeated, skeptical.

 

"Yeah, of course!" he chirped. "Come on, I'll show you Blue. You'll love her."

 

With several and a half misgivings, Pidge followed him out the door and to the car parked by the entrance. He gestured proudly at it.

 

"Here she is. My soulmate."

 

She snorted. "Looks a bit old for you, don't you think?"

 

"Hey! Rude!" Lance threw open the door for her and bowed. "Please, hop in, M'lady."

 

"You're not allowed to use that word if you thought I was a guy at first," Pidge teased, getting in nonetheless.

 

He flushed. "I _said_ I was sorry!"

 

"I know, I'm just messing with you." Pidge tapped out a few messages to Matt on her phone as Lance strode around the car and plopped down in the driver's seat.

 

"So where you headed?" he asked as soon as she put her phone down.

 

"It's 612 Helena Street. Just a few miles away."

 

"Helena Street? Why's that sound familiar?" he mused.

 

"Hunk mentioned that you lived nearby." Pidge turned on the radio. ". . . Spanish music?"

 

"It's my heritage, _chiquita_." Despite his somewhat sarcastic tone, Lance’s crooked smile was genuine. "So? You gonna give me directions or what?"

 

Pidge gave a start. "Oh, yeah. Take a left out of the parking lot."

 

There were a few minutes of somewhat awkward silence, with Lance's music playing softly in the background. Pidge's mind was as jittery as it had ever been. The lack of conversation was deafening.

 

"So, how's it feel to ride home in a proper car instead of a bus? Pretty great, right?"

 

Luckily, Lance was a typical teenage boy who wouldn’t miss the opportunity to brag about his car.

 

“Huh? I mean, fine, I guess.” Pidge knew nothing about cars. “I didn’t really notice.”

 

"She drives really smoothly, even though we’re on a pretty bumpy road,” Lance explained. “Usually you’d be bouncing around, but not in Blue.”

 

Now that she paid attention, it _was_ a pretty smooth ride. “I guess you’re right.” Pidge mused. “She does drive a lot better than my dad’s Jeep.”

 

“Blue’s better than any jeep,” he replied smugly. “Also, I try to keep her really clean. She’s basically the most precious thing that I own."

 

"Oh, yeah, about that.” Pidge turned in her seat to stare at him. "Why?"

 

A pause.

 

“Why. . . what?”

 

“Why the heck did you name your car??”

 

"Well, she deserves a _name_ , doesn't she?" Lance was somewhat offended.

 

"I don’t know! Does she? If she does, doesn't she deserve a better name than just, I don't know, _Blue_ ? Like, the _color_?"

 

He heaved a great sigh. "Okay, look. I was really torn about this for a while. I wanted to name her a pretty girl's name, but nothing I came up with suited her. Then I started thinking, whoa, what if I meet a girl who happens to have the same name as my car? I won't be able to date her, right? What if she's perfect and I just have a mental block because I can't think of her without thinking of--"

 

"Okay, okay." Pidge rubbed her temples, regretting everything. "I get it. You like girls."

 

"What can I say? Girls are pretty," Lance shrugged.

 

Pidge slumped down a bit in her seat, unable to quash the obvious thought before it popped into the forefront of her mind: _except for you._ She opened her mouth to change the subject when Lance's eyes widened.

 

Usually, to others who didn't know her well, her sarcastic remarks and subtle reactions were impossible to read. Pidge realized a moment too late that to a guy who apparently paid so much attention as Lance did. . . she was downright transparent.

 

"I mean-- I didn't mean--" he scrambled for words. "I wasn't really paying attention earlier, honestly! You're way too pretty to be a boy."

 

"W-what?" She shot up in her seat, red filling her cheeks. "I wasn't-- I'm not insecure about my looks, it's my own fault my hair's--"

 

"No, for real, Pidge. You're _amazing_. You look great, all the time--"

 

"You just met me!" she snapped, trying to fight back the laughter bubbling to her throat.

 

"And I met you practically at your worst, what's that say?" he grinned. Pidge huffed.

 

"Just shaddup, all right??"

 

"Okay! Okay, sorry."

 

A pause.

 

"So why _is_ your hair like that?"

 

Pidge groaned at the memory. "Gum."

 

Lance's face dropped. "You--you cut it? Because of. . . gum?"

 

"I got gum stuck in my hair accidentally and Matt and I decided to cut it because nothing was working and Mom was gonna be home soon--"

 

"So you decided to _cut it_ ?" Lance, whose voice had jumped a few octaves, cleared his throat. "You can--you know you can _literally_ just use peanut butter, right?"

 

"Well, _now_ I know that!" she barked.

 

"Why didn't you look it up on the internet?" He was clearly finding it difficult to accept that she just  _cut_ _her hair_.

 

"The internet was down at our house."

 

"There's still data on your phone, and friends a phone call away, and--"

 

"Lance." Pidge's patience was wearing thin. "Next time, I will call you before I make any drastic hair decisions. Okay?"

 

Lance grinned. "Awesome. This your house?"

 

Pidge glanced out the window and sighed in relief. "Yeah, this is it," she replied, pushing open the car door and hopping out.

 

"You're welcome, by the way."

 

"Did I not. . ." Pidge replayed their conversation in her head. "Did I not thank you yet?"

 

"Nooooot really." He examined his nails.

 

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Well, sorry about that. I really do appreciate you coming out of your way like that for me." Meeting his eyes, Pidge smiled. “Thank you, Lance.”

 

His expression brightened considerably. "It was no problem at all, seriously! I was glad to help."

 

"Then why'd you make the thank-you such a big deal?"

 

"Well, who doesn’t like feeling appreciated?"

 

She snickered. "All right, all right. See you next practice."

 

"See you then--I mean, assuming I got in.”

 

Pidge paused and glanced back. He was staring at his hands, an expression she’d never seen before flickering behind his eyes.

 

“Of _course_ you got in, you’re amazing,” she snorted.

 

“You were-- you saw?” His head popped up, cheeks flushed. “I mean, yeah, of course I am!”

 

Was this dweeb actually embarrassed that someone had seen his audition? Pidge shook her head. “You blew everyone away, Lance. Can’t believe _I’m_ telling _you_ this. You don’t seem like the type of person who’s, like, crippled by self-doubt.”

 

“I’m not, I just. . .” In what seemed like a flash of honesty, he offered a weak smile. “Sometimes you wonder, you know? About whether you’re really. . . yeah.”

 

She considered for a moment. “Not really.”

 

“Oh, didn’t realize I was talking to the _god_ of self confidence. Lend me some of that next time, will you?”

 

She smirked. “Sure.”

 

With that, she swung around, walking up the stone path to her house. Behind her, she could hear Blue crunching down the rocky pavement into the distance.

 

Despite her exhaustion, there was a bit of spring in her step.

 


	2. Nuts and Bolts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pidge isn't nearly as excited as her friends want her to be, Lance continues to be annoyingly friendly, and an old friend comes back in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW THIS IS MY PLANCE FIC I just NEEDED to include some Keith/Pidge interactions b/c I live for them. Don't worry, this is NOT going to be a love triangle fic.
> 
> I'm writing that one separately, LOL.
> 
> Also, have y'all seen fullmetal alchemist brotherhood?? that shit is insane, dude. that's why this chapter took so long despite being almost totally done last week haha sorry

“So, are you excited?”

 

It was lunchtime in the computer lab. Pidge always looked forward to Thursdays--they were the day she and Hunk always spent their free hour together, screwing around with the loose tech left in the lab. Most of it was harmless, so they had made it their own personal challenge to sneak in as much equipment as they could to work on their secret little projects.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, tightening a screw on her mini droid. "Do you think I'll be able to finish Rover before I graduate?"

 

"Okay, first of all: only you would want a robo-dog."

 

"It's not really a _dog_ , Hunk, it's just a droid that's gonna have a somewhat doggy personality." 

 

". . . Letting that one slide." He squinted at her. "I was talking about drama, obviously! You're meeting with Coran this afternoon. . ."

 

"Yeah, I'm skipping out on Home Ec. It's _great_."

 

"Piiiidge," he whined, "why do you do this?"

 

"Do what?" She looked up, confused.

 

"I'm trying to get you hyped for this, and you're just. . ." He gestured at her sadly. "Not hyped?"

 

"Well, _sorry_ I'm not jumping for joy at the chance to listen to the same songs and scenes over and over, by teenagers who probably will never get any kind of career in theater and have little to no talent, all while trying to get mediocre high school sound equipment to cooperate."

 

Hunk blinked. "Did you get enough sleep last night?"

 

"I'm just being sarcastic." Pidge sighed. "It doesn't sound nearly as bad as that, but you _can't_ expect me to be jumping for joy over this. Gimme a little time, at least!"

 

"Yeah, the situation is actually pretty good. Besides, the actors aren't _too_ bad." Hunk folded his arms.

 

"Nah, you're right. I hope Lance gets cast, he's not half-bad." Pidge turned back to her work, only to pop her head back up when he didn't respond. "Hunk?"

 

His face screamed "scheming" in a manner only Hunk could possibly think of as subtle. "What are you up to,” she asked dryly.

 

"Huh? Nothing!" He composed himself, picking up his chicken salad and shoveling it into his mouth.

 

Pidge squinted at him another moment, then shrugged and continued. "Any suggestions for this little guy?"

 

"Make sure he's got enough lift to actually, you know, hover," Hunk said through a mouthful of food. "Also, make those little lights on him yellow."

 

"What? No way, they're gonna be green. I'm picking up the LEDs this week."

 

"Boring!"   
  


* * *

 

Pidge's priorities were as follows: Family. Grades and schoolwork--more precisely, the work ethic she cultivated in her youth, the habits she formed. Friends. 

 

Taking time to "let loose and chill out" was nowhere on that list, yet here she was.

 

Coran had made it a rule that everyone, including the set designers, costume directors, and yes,  _ tech crew _ had to participate in the first rehearsal warm-ups. Apparently it was  _ fun  _ for some people to play idiotic rhyming games, stand in a circle clapping, and other assorted cultish-looking rituals.

 

Pidge simply didn’t understand the appeal. She never liked icebreaker games at parties--always the one to duck off to the bathroom while the others enjoyed themselves.

 

The group of teenagers were all laughing. Even Hunk--normally so cautious--was getting in on the action. Lance had dragged him in, and he seemed to be having a good time. Pidge watched with a quirked eyebrow as he mimed a chicken, to raucous peals of laughter from the others.

 

Funny how easy it was to tell the regular, mocking laughter from. . . this.

 

Pidge sighed and slumped back down in her chair, trying hard to avoid anyone's notice. She looked up once more, trying to pretend it didn't look enjoyable.

 

Unfortunately, she chose the wrong moment to glance up--Lance was staring right at her. His face broke out into a beam, and Pidge knew she was toast.

 

“C'mon, Pidge, don't be a party pooper! Come join us!”

 

_ Well, she wasn't going down without a fight. _

 

Pidge brought the book higher up, covering her face completely. “Nope.”

 

She regretted it half a second later, when the book was shoved down and Lance’s face was suddenly _right_ in her personal space. Instinctively, she reared backwards and hit her head on the wall. “Ow!”

 

“Shoot, are you ok?” he gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

 

“Leave the poor girl alone, Lance,” somebody called. 

 

“You've _finally_ met a girl who  isn’t interested, buddy.” another teased.

 

A spatter of laughter. Pidge’s face heated up, and she opened her mouth to yell at the offender, but was cut off by a friendly chuckle from Lance.

 

“Strong words from a dude who hasn’t had a date since January, James!” he shot back good-naturedly.

 

More laughter. James rolled his eyes, seemingly unhurt by the reply. Seeing the attention was drawn away from himself, Lance took the opportunity to continue his crusade.

 

“But seriously, Pidge. You’ve got to at least give it a try.” He threw an arm around her, smoothly slipping into the seat beside her. “It's just charades, haven't you ever played charades before?”

 

“I’m just not good at party games, okay?” she replied, trying (and failing) to lift her book again, as he had a hand clapped over it, holding it down.

 

“Well, sure! Nobody’s  _ good  _ at them, that’s the point!” Lance tugged on her arm and onto her feet, half-dragging her towards the group. “You just gotta lighten up and go with the flow sometimes, you know?”

 

Pidge didn’t have time to answer before she was surrounded, trapped by teenagers. She hunched her shoulders in and pulled her sweater neckline up further, trying to make herself small, but Lance threw out his arms proudly.

 

“Our turn! Step aside, everybody.”

 

The chatter died down a bit. He looked at Pidge expectantly. It took a moment for her to realize he was waiting for her to say something.

 

“So are we doing, like,  _ people _ , or. . . ?” Pidge asked, completely out of her element.

 

“Pick an animal,” somebody shouted. A few smart remarks, more laughter. Pidge’s eye twitched (what do these people find so _funny_ ), but Lance’s smile didn’t falter. He leaned in, grinning, and Pidge fought the instinct to elbow him in the ribs.  _ Personal space is a thing, dude. _

 

“Okay, we’re gonna be a. . . _cow_!" he whispered. "Think you can handle that?”

 

“'We'?” she questioned, putting a firm hand on his chest and shoving him away.

 

He didn’t seem to notice her continued coldness, smirk not so much as twitching. "Yeah, this is partners charades. Weren't you paying attention?"

 

She let her expression answer his question.

 

"You know what, whatever. All that matters is, you're playing now! C'mon,  _chica_ , let's show these punks what we're made of!"

 

He spread his arms, raising his eyebrows suggestively. She blinked.

 

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

 

"No talking!"

 

That particular call came from Hunk, who winced under Pidge's death glare. She turned to her partner, who was still gesturing wildly. 

 

"He's a monkey!"

 

"Aliens!"

 

"Cut it, he's obviously a bird of some kind, doing a mating dance. . ."

 

Pidge groaned loudly, rubbing her temples, and then stuck out her own arms in a huge shrug. _What are you saying?_

 

Lance brought his hands up above his head and made a face. A couple of people in the crowd lost it with laughter--Hunk fell down.

 

Pidge, however, was squinting at him. Suddenly, she gave a nod.

 

And promptly shoved Lance to the ground. 

 

The shouted suggestions became ridiculous, but neither of the two minded. Lance collapsed easily, going down on his hands and knees. Pidge squatted and reached for the area right below his chest, miming squeezing with her hands.

 

"Cow! He's a cow!" Hunk exclaimed above the din.

 

"Wooo!" Lance whooped in triumph. He leapt backwards into a sitting position and offered Pidge a high five, smiling eyes twinkling merrily.

 

She slapped his hands as hard as she could.

 

" _Ow_!"

* * *

 

 

The games had finally ceased. Coran was corralling up the actors for a read-through, and Hunk was in the back, looking at the props list. Lance, waiting for the situation to calm, was "chilling out" in the audience seats while Pidge tinkered with a mic. If she were to learn to be a tech director, her superior had decided, she'd have to learn how to use the equipment.

 

The best way to learn was by doing. And Pidge _loved_ taking technology apart.

 

Unfortunately, she was a bit nervous under the older boy's inquisitive gaze. She wasn't really interested in answering questions from him at the moment, considering how little he seemed to know about her area of expertise. It would only be boring, making the conversation about her.

 

"So, you're a main character, huh?"

 

 

Lance threw his arms behind his head and kicked his legs up on the seats in front of him. “Yyyyup! It was in the email he sent out.”

 

"I, uh, don't think I received that one."  _Beanstalk_. 

 

"Well, probably not," he drawled, stretching out further. His elbow was less than a foot from her head. "You aren't in the cast, after a--"

 

“Could you be taking up _any_ more space?” she interrupted, gritting her teeth.

 

“Hey!” He pointed a finger at her, then moved it two inches to direct her eyes at the pile of junk on the seat beside her. “You're one to talk, _hoarder_.”

 

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Doesn't that role have lot of lines to memorize?”

 

“I've got it on lockdown,” Lance bragged, pointing now to his forehead. “ _This_ cranium is super-skilled at learning lines.”

 

“Really?” She was interested despite herself, now. “Do you have a system for learning them?”

 

“Well, yeah!” He sat up, glad to have a proper audience. “I read it until I know the character like the back of my hand. Sometimes, I watch the film of it to see other people's interpretations of the role. Then, I really study their scenes and lines--not in a memorize-y kind of monotonous way, but like… learning the emotions behind them? Then, once you've got it, it doesn't matter if you don't know every word perfectly--you can still know the role.”

 

“Interesting method.” Pidge admitted. “Useless for French vocab.”

 

Lance's attention was elsewhere, however--the Princess was walking by.

 

“Hey, Allura!”

 

The girl stopped and offered the two a smile. “Hello, Mr. McClain. Miss Holt  . . .” 

 

“Aw, come on,” Lance whined, leaning over the chair towards her. “We're on a first name basis now, aren't we?”

 

“I heard you received the lead male role. My congratulations!” Allura was definitely determined to stick to this formal role. "I'm delighted to hear I'll be working with you--"

 

In a moment, he had scrambled up and was in a _much_ more dignified position than a second ago. Allura's eyes widened when he took her hand in both of his, smiling smugly. "Oh, yeah, of course you are. I'm basically the best actor here, you know."

 

Her smile was gone in a flash, replaced by a somewhat disdainful frown, as she snatched back her hand. "Ugh."

 

Pidge tried (and failed) to suppress a smirk as Allura escaped again. _Looks like those charms don't work on everybody, dummy._

 

Lance, catching her snicker, turned and scowled at her. "Well, gee, thanks for the _support_ , buddy!"

 

Her giggles stopped. "Hey." Pidge pointed at herself, then at him, with a frown. " _We_. Aren't buddies, my dude."

 

"Sure, sure." He kicked his legs up on the seats again, elbows uncomfortably close to her once more. "Whatever you say, _chica_."

 

"Ugh, and will you _stop_ using those pet names? They're so weird!"

  
  
  


Although it was pretty fun to listen to him read his lines. Even with zero practice, he was able to get through paragraph blocks without many stumbles, and with _feeling_ that was contagious.

 

 

Pidge was in the process of putting away her tools when an obnoxious whistling and clinking of keys alerted her to an intruder in her corner. She turned and of course--

 

"Lance." she said in greeting. "What do you want?"

 

He halted, as if offended. "What do I _want_? To give you a ride home, obviously. What else?"

 

"You're. . . you're giving me another ride?"

 

He bent down, slowly and not breaking eye contact, until he was at eye level with her.

 

"You live less than ten minutes away from me, of course I'm giving you a ride. Hunk asked me to."

 

"Hunk--" So _that_ was what that scheming face earlier meant. She could have killed him.

 

"So," he said, raising an eyebrow, "are we going, or not?"

 

 

 

 

“Do you like  _ Hamilton _ ?”

 

Pidge turned and fixed him with a hard stare. Lance watched the road, a small quirk of a smile on his face. “Well?”

 

“I’m not really a musical theater kind of person,” she said. “I hadn’t even seen anything until Matt started working tech for our school a few years back. And the only reason I want to see those were because he dragged us.”

 

Dad had loved the productions, too. He had loved pointing out the little details--thing she’d have missed if he hadn’t been there.

 

 

_ “You’re always too focused on the big picture, Katie. Sometimes you’ve gotta relax and enjoy the little things.” He offered her an encouraging smile, the kind that always calmed her jittery nerves. “Don’t miss the trees for the forest!” _

 

_ “But I don’t even  _ like  _ nature.” _

 

_ His laughter was infectious. _

 

 

“Well,” Lance announced, startling her out of her thoughts, “you’re going to be a fan starting today. It’s time fooooor. . .  _ Hamilton _ !”

 

Pidge slumped down in her seat and groaned. “Seriously?”

 

“Hey, hey. There’s a reason this stuff’s so popular.” When she didn’t respond, he turned to her, face becoming marginally serious. “Just give it a chance, all right?”

 

She groaned. “Fiiiiine.”

 

“All right!” he cheered, bright expression returning as he hit a button on the radio.

 

As the song played, Pidge found herself laughing at the dramatic way he sang along to the music, gesturing wildly when the lyrics demanded it. Lance loudly emphasized certain words, glancing at her and grinning widely whenever she snorted. It was almost like he was putting on a little show, just for her, and enjoying her reactions just as much as she did his act. At one point, he lost his head a little and released the steering wheel, waving both arms in the air, and she grabbed it in a panic, righting the vehicle.

 

“You wanna get us  _ killed _ , dummy??”

 

“It was fine, I had it! Blue practically drives herself.”

 

She was starting to get used to his strange habit of referring to his car as if it was alive. 

 

When he pulled up by her house, she gladly hopped out, relieved to be done with the ordeal despite herself.

 

“By the time we're done with this show,” he called after her, rolling down the window, “you'll have every song memorized!”

 

“God forbid,” she quipped. “Thanks again.”

 

“See ya, Pigeon!”

  
  


Mom wasn't home yet, but Pidge didn't need any reminders to finish her homework before dinnertime. Though she had a little difficulty working through everything alone, it was what she was used to now that Mom worked so many long shifts and Matt was gone. Not to mention Dad had always been there before, ready to explain things when she had been about ready to chuck her textbook at the wall.

 

Nevertheless, Pidge completed her work at about dusk. She closed the book just as an uncomfortable rumble ripped through her stomach.  _ Dinnertime _ .

  
  


She was just settling down at the sofa to play a little video games before bed with a bowl of ramen noodles--a staple for when she was home alone--when a light caught her eye outside.

 

That was strange. It was too late in the evening for the neighbors to be out and about in the woods. Frowning, she set the food aside and walked over to the huge window overlooking the backyard.

 

A flashlight beam hit her directly in her face, blinding her at once. Before she could shout, the beam darted up and away. Slowly regaining her sight, Pidge glared down at the yard--who in the world was here, and why were they--

 

A lone figure stood by the trees, now swinging the flashlight in his hand expertly. He raised a hand and waved.

 

Her heart leapt and a grin lit up her face.

 

"Keith!" she shouted, throwing her arms in the air in jubilance. "You're back!"

  
  
  


"So how was the trip?"

 

The two strolled through the forest as if it wasn't nearing ten at night. Keith barked out a laugh, and Pidge regretted not being able to see his expression.

 

"It was pretty good. Fun, even. I was glad to spend time with my mom."

 

She smiled. "You deserve it."

 

"I think my dad deserved it more," he replied quietly. "After thinking she was dead for so long."

 

"You deserve it," Pidge repeated. "Jeez, Keith, can't you act like a normal annoying teen for once? You've always gotta bring up your whole tragic backstory. At some point, it's going to get boring, you know that?"

 

"I doubt that the story of my mother being presumed and announced as dead after an abduction from another government's secret service--"

 

"See, this is what I'm talking about. So weird. If we were in a comic book or tv show or something, you'd be the angsty protagonist for sure."

 

"Nah,” he replied, as if it was a silly suggestion, “I'd be a boring hero."

 

"Don't you know hand-to-hand combat?" she demanded, jumping over a tree branch. 

 

"Yeah, so should everybody."

 

She couldn't let that one slide. "Even the criminals, Keith? You want the bad guys to know how to fight?"

 

"Sure," he said in a deceptively agreeable tone. "At least make the fight even."

 

Pidge let out a mighty groan. "Yeah. Again, case in point. Do you even know what normal  _ looks  _ like, dude?"

 

He was silent for a moment.

 

"How does one go about being  _ normal _ , Pidge? Do I just have to. . . believe I'm normal, or should I change something about the way I act, dress. . . speak?"

 

"Okay, now I know you're being facetious. Shut your sarcastic mouth." It may have been nearly pitch-black outside, but Pidge was sure she caught a sly grin from her companion in the moonlight. "For god's sake, Keith. Watch some TV, get a job, learn  _ Hamilton  _ by heart or something, I don't know!"

 

He glanced at her curiously. "Who listens to  _ Hamilton _ ? You've never brought that up before."

 

"I don't know. People," she said evasively. "Lots of people. It's pretty popular."

 

Keith shrugged and returned to their original more important, topic. "I was kicked out of school. That's pretty normal, right?"

 

"No, it's not!" She punched his arm. "Try again!"

 

He was laughing. "How about eating chips in the woods at night with a friend?"

 

Pause. "You've got chips?"

 

Keith rummaged through his backpack for a second before producing the goods.

 

"Oh,  _ heck  _ yes!" Pidge grabbed the bag and scurried off.

 

"Hey, don't eat all of them!"

 

Laughing, she plopped herself down under a tree and popped the bag open. "Sour cream and onion. Nice!"

 

"Yeah, okay,  _ gremlin _ ." Keith helped himself to a handful. "So how's Rover going?"

 

"He's coming along pretty well. I won't bore you with details."

 

"I appreciate it."

 

"Oh, but get this." She rolled her eyes, talking through a mouth full of food. "Hunk got me to sign up to help with drama."

 

"You're  _ acting  _ now? Is that why you like  _ Hamilton _ ?"

 

If she hadn't been so good at reading his monotone, she wouldn't have caught the incredulous undertone to his question. "I told you, I just happened to mention that! I do not listen to it!" she snapped. "And I'm _not_ acting. Jeez, you think I could get up in front of a crowd and act like an imbecile? Nah, I'll leave that to Lance."

 

Even in the dark, Pidge noticed Keith shift ever-so-slightly.

 

"What, do you know the guy or something?"

 

"No, I don't. His name sounded familiar for a sec, but I. . ." He shrugged it off. "No, never mind. Whatever."

 

"Ok, weirdo."

 

She knew he was smiling in the darkness. They sat for a few minutes in silence, except for the chip crunching.

 

"Can I, like, totally ruin the mood right now, and say something dumb and sad?”

 

"Dumb and sad are my two personality traits, according to you." Keith shrugged. "Go nuts."

 

Pidge took a deep breath.

 

"I miss Matt a lot." she admitted. "Do you miss Shiro?"

 

He was quiet for a bit, as if turning over the question in his head and trying to come up with the correct answer.

 

"He seems really happy where he is." Keith finally answered, softly. "He's really gonna be a pilot, you know that?"

 

"Fff, how could I forget? 'S all you talk about."

 

"Yeah, I guess."

 

Another lapse of silence.

 

"You're allowed to miss him, even if you're happy that he is where he should be. You know that?"

 

"It's the same for you." he answered immediately.

 

"Oh, I know I can miss Matt--"

 

"Not who I'm talking about, Katie."

 

Her mood soured immediately, and the anger she’d been ignoring for some time boiled up in her gut at a low simmer. "That's different and you know it."

 

"Of course."

 

The bag was running out by now. Pidge was slightly annoyed that Keith would bring That up, especially since she'd been avoiding the topic and trying to cheer him up. How dare he turn her own comforting words around on herself?

 

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now,” she said bluntly.

 

“Ok, you don’t have to. I just wanted to let you know. You can. With me, I mean.”

 

Keith wasn't going to do anything to hurt her--she knew that by now, at least, even if many parts of the awkward, dark-eyed boy remained an enigma.

 

She liked figuring fascinating things out. Without a good challenge, what was the point?

 

"You still a workaholic?" he asked, mercifully changing the subject.

 

"No more than you. _Emo_ ," she added in a lighter tone, to tell him it was okay.

 

They were still okay. 

 

"Cool. Wanna go chuck rocks into the gorge?"

 

She leapt to her feet. "Oh man, you know it!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive the errors! i will correct them when I read this over later, just wanted to get this out. I'm trying not to rush the plance romance, so neither of them have actual crushes.... yet. 
> 
> things you should know about me: i'm a sucker for "he falls first"   
> things you should know about plance: pidge def has a(n unrequited???) crush on the guy  
> how can these two things occur at once, you say??? 8)


	3. Do Interventions Normally End in Kidnapping?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge is working too hard. A few people call her out on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Split this chapter in half since the second half wasn't coming out as easily as i hoped lol. Enjoy!

Video calls with Matt were the greatest thing since he’d left for school and the siblings were unable to spend hours together chatting in the woods or in the lab. Pidge listened carefully as Matt rambled on and on about how amazing classes were, how much fun he and Shiro had together, how he’d met this cute girl at the radio station. . . It was nice to just listen to his voice.

 

She missed him so much.

 

Catching her soft expression, Matt’s word flow slowed to a stop and he grinned.

 

"What? There something on my face?"

 

"No, I'm just happy to see you," she admitted. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

 

Her brother’s face broke into a huge smile. “You too,” he replied. “I’ve missed you too, Pidge.”

 

“Psh! You’re a dork.”

 

“Hey, you said it first!” he complained, laughing nonetheless.

 

She rested her chin on her hands and pursed her lips. “Did I? I don’t remember. . .”

 

“All right, all right,” Matt raised his hands in defeat. “So, bring me up to date on your life! What's the scoop at the Holt homestead?"

 

"Everything's pretty much normal. Mom's pumpkins are turning out, she's so proud."

 

"Yeah, I saw the pictures she posted on facebook. Pretty cool!" Matt rubbed his hands together. "How about school? How are your grades?"

 

Pidge rolled her eyes fondly. "I'm getting A's in all my classes. Like usual."

 

"Congratulations!" he exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you!"

 

"Pshh, it's not like it's even. . ."

 

"It  _ is  _ an accomplishment. You work hard." He wagged his finger at her disapprovingly. "Don't sell yourself short."

 

"All right, all right." Pidge tapped her chin. What else? "The other week, I made a major breakthrough with Rover. . ."

 

"Nice! Think you'll be done before Christmas so you can bring him when you come visit?"

 

"Are you kidding? I'll be lucky to finish him by the end of this school year!"

 

Matt wilted, then popped right back up. "I heard Keith got back!" he wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. "How's  _ that  _ going?"

 

"Matt, it's not like  _ that _ ," Pidge groaned, a flush rising on her cheeks. "Come ooon."

 

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much. . ."

 

"Why are you always so intent on creating a make-believe love life for--Oh! That reminds me!" Pidge sat bolt upright. "There  _ is  _ something new."

 

"Spill!"

 

"I'm helping my friend Hunk with tech for the drama production this year. We're basically the tech directors, aside from Coran."

 

"You're helping with the play? Seriously?" Matt was gleeful. "That was my  _ jam  _ back in high school!"

 

"Yeah, it's okay. Everybody's super loud there, and extra, and. . ." Pidge stopped and stared at her brother. ". . . and a lot like you, actually."

 

"Drama types are all the same. Dashing, handsome. . ." He winked.

 

“How’d  _ you  _ get in that crowd, then?”

 

“Hey!”

 

The two collapsed into giggles.

 

"But seriously. The star of the show is this guy named Lance. He is the most ridiculous goofball you've ever seen."

 

"Ooh, is he dashing and handsome, too? Sounds like a blast at parties."

 

"Pff, hardly. But he  _ is  _ the party." Pidge flopped backwards onto her bed. "It's a shame he's so infuriating, otherwise. . ."

 

"Otherwise?"

 

"I dunno. He's giving me my rides home from school on days we have rehearsal, because he lives close by," Pidge explained. 

 

"Sounds fun. Are you enjoying yourself?”

 

“It’s just more work as of right now. The sound system is total garbage, I have to fix up every little thing. Searching for sound effects with Hunk was pretty fun, though.” Pidge shrugged. “It’ll probably get better the closer we get to the actual show.”

 

Matt burst out laughing. Pidge merely stared as it turned into a coughing fit.

 

“Right,” he managed after he’d caught his breath. “Tech week should be fun.”

 

“Tech week?”

 

“That’s what we call the week before the show. It’s the final stretch, and it will be  _ torture _ , let me tell you. Everything else in your life will take a swan dive off your priorities list.”

 

Now that she thought about it, she recalled the past few years when Matt was tired right before the school’s show. “I can’t afford something like that,” Pidge said slowly. “. . . maybe I should drop out?”

 

“No! Are you kidding? It’s just a week, it’s not  _ that  _ hard. Besides, your grades can take it, and I know Mom won’t hold it against you.”

 

She shrugged. “Whatever, okay.”

 

Something in her tone must have worried him, because when Matt spoke again, his tone was much different. “Are you doing all right? You sound pretty tired.”

 

“Been working pretty hard recently.” As if to punctuate her statement, Pidge yawned. “Between class and drama and everything, I haven’t gotten much sleep. But it’s going to be worth it when. . .”

 

Matt was shaking his head. “Pidge, have you spent time with friends recently? Outside of school related activities?”

 

“Um. . .” She thought hard. “Yes?”

 

“Don’t lie. Have you sat down to play video games and unwind recently, then? How about gardening with Mom?”

 

Her patience was being tested. “Matt, I  _ know _ my limits. I’m not going to kill myself over here without you, I can take care of myself!”

 

“Pidge, I know how you get into these downward spirals. Take a break and play some video games, it’s what dad would have--”

 

It was like he’d thrown a bucket of ice water over her.

 

“ _ No _ !”

 

He fell silent. Pidge clapped her hands over her mouth and lowered her head until her choppy bangs hung over her face, shrouding her eyes from his gaze.

 

“I gotta go,” she whispered. “I have an essay due tomorrow.”

 

“Pidge, wait--”

 

‘I said I gotta  _ go _ . Have a good night, Matt. Love you.”

 

She closed the laptop with a click, leaving the room plunged into darkness. 

 

* * *

  
  


The following day was terrible. There was really no other way to put it.

 

Her writing wasn’t  _ working _ \--the essay sounded flat and her points inarticulate--so she saved the draft and headed to bed, vowing to wake a couple of hours early and finish it before school. 

 

The power in the house went out for a minute overnight, resetting her clock and erasing the alarm she set. Pidge was woken by her mother’s shouts from the kitchen that she was going to miss the bus.

 

So she took a roughly three-minute shower, pulled on her default outfit of jeans and her pastel green turtleneck (which smelled kind of strange but beggars can’t be choosers, after all) and ran out the door, barely remembering to snatch her laptop from the desk where it was still half-buried under notes and assorted garbage.

 

Finding her regular seat near the back and slumping down with a sigh, she realized with a start that she’d forgotten to make a lunch, and her wallet was absent from her bag.

 

_ Shoot _ .

  
  
  


Hunk wasn’t answering her texts. So in between classes, Pidge crouched behind the lockers, waiting. A couple of kids sniggered at her as they passed, but she had no time--or patience--to feel self-conscious right about now.

 

There. Hunk shuffled by, and Pidge pounced, grabbing his arm. “Psst! Hey!”

 

He jumped, launching himself backwards into the wall with a shout. “AAH! Pidge??”

 

“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, dude. I just need some money.” Pidge was slightly sorry for startling him like that, but she was in too foul a mood to apologize.

 

Hunk’s brow furrowed. “What?”

 

“I don’t have a lunch and I didn’t have breakfast,” she explained, trying to keep calm. “ _ Please _ let me borrow some money or I’m gonna starve.”

 

“I--Of course you can borrow some money, you didn’t have to jump me like that!” He fished in his bag, giving her the stink eye. “Here you go.”

 

“Thank you.” She took the five dollar bill he held out, just stopping herself from hugging it in sheer relief.

 

“Why don’t you have any money of your own?

 

“You know. . .” Her voice trailed off.

 

He waited.

 

“. . . forgot my wallet,” she finished lamely.

 

“Do you want to sit with me and Lance today?” he suggested. "We'll help you pick out your lunch since you don't usually get your meals from the cafeteria.”

 

Trust Hunk to offer her favors when she was acting like a jerk.

 

"No, thanks." Pidge shrugged. "I'd rather have some alone time today. Not feeling it, you know?"

 

Hunk frowned, but didn’t push it, allowing her to walk off in the other direction.

 

* * *

 

He caught her in the cafeteria, of course. Pidge was sitting in the back--she’d managed to snag a seat a little ways away from everybody else, and was trying to read.

 

“I thought today was one of your Lance days,” she observed as he set down his tray beside hers.

 

“It is, I just wanted to ask you about something.”

 

She squinted. Hunk was using his poorly-concealed “concerned” voice.

 

“Ask away,” she replied, if somewhat cautiously.

 

“I think you need to spend some time hanging out more with friends.” He exhaled. “You’ve been cutting us off, and I understand being an introvert, but it’s taking a toll on you to not have any support system in your life. I wanted to get some more face time with you when I suggested you join the tech crew, but all you’ve been doing is holing yourself up, away from everybody, including me.”

 

“. . . What’s your question?”

 

He spread his hands in a pleading gesture. “Will you please stop focusing so hard on grades and relax? I think you’re really going down a bad path.”

 

Pidge kept her face carefully neutral as she weighed her options. 

 

_ If I affirm his statements in the least, it’ll encourage him to badger me even more about it, no matter what I say after.  _

 

There wasn’t any way out of it but blank contradiction.

 

“I’m flattered you’re worrying about me,” she replied, forcing a lighthearted tone, “but there’s nothing wrong. I haven’t been hanging out with you as much, true, but there’s plenty of people I  _ have  _ been--”

 

“That’s a  _ lie _ , Pidge! You’re  _ lying  _ to me!” he exclaimed. “You’re obviously just trying to get rid of me and it won’t work. I  _ know  _ what’s been going on--I know you’ve been cutting off  _ all  _ your friends, not just me.”

 

She squinted at him. “How would you possibly know that? You have no  _ evidence _ .”

 

Hunk held up his phone, and Pidge let out a gasp. “Betrayal!”

 

“Even  _ Keith  _ says you haven’t been texting him.”

 

She couldn’t believe this. “ _ You _ texted  _ Keith _ ? I thought you were scared of the guy.”

 

“I’m not  _ scared  _ of him, I just get a little worried around him!” he protested. “But don’t change the subject. Don’t make me call an intervention. I respect hard workers, but Pidge, you’re killing yourself and for what, good grades?”

 

“ _ Amazing _ grades.” She shoveled the rest of her salad into her mouth and began hastily tidying her spot, eager to escape as soon as possible.

 

“And what social life?”

 

“I don’t  _ need  _ a social life.” Pidge snapped, slamming the bowl down on her tray. “I have to  _ become  _ something. I have people who believe in me and I’m not going to let them down because I need to have some dumb teenagery fun.”

 

“You realize that there is  _ nobody  _ in your life who’s happy with what you’re doing right now?” 

 

_ Ouch _ .

 

“I’m not talking about this right now.” She picked up her messy tray and stood. “I’ll see you around, Hunk.”

  
  
  


During rehearsal, she stuck to the balcony. Once or twice she caught a few people glancing up at her, but she ducked down whenever they happened to catch her eye.  _ I am not socializing  _ any  _ more today. _

 

Afterwards, Lance caught her coming down the stairs. He was swinging his keys around his finger, drumming hid other hand against the doorframe.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

In hindsight, she should have caught his body language a mile away. . .

 

“More than ready,” she grumbled, hiking her backpack up on her shoulders.

 

. . . but she didn't.

  
  


 

 

Lance hurried to open the car door for her, but Pidge was faster this time, whipping it open and jumping in before he had the chance to pull his gentleman shtick. She wasn’t in the mood for it.

 

“Come on!” he complained.

 

She didn’t laugh, just buckled her seat belt in silence. Lance winced visibly, but plowed ahead

 

“So, that was a pretty funny scene we were doing today, right?”

 

“Which do you mean? You practiced a bunch of scenes.”

 

“Oh. Right.” He laughed nervously. "I meant, uh, the one where. . . Hm."

 

Pidge squinted at him. “What are you acting so weird for? Weirder than usual, I mean.”

 

“Oh, wow, even weirder than usual? I must seem pretty strange, then, huh?”

 

There was a pause. A cough from the backseat. Lance's eyes widened and he reached over to stop her from looking, but Pidge's eyes swiveled towards the sound.

 

“Pidge, hang on--”

 

There, between a couple of boxes, sat the reincarnation of Brutus himself--or rather, Hunk.

 

His face broke into a terrified smile.

 

“Hey, Pidge!”

 

Beat.

 

“Let me out of this car,” Pidge demanded, turning to the door.

 

“LANCE, FLOOR IT!”

 

Cackling like a madman, Lance did exactly that. Blue screeched out of the parking lot while Pidge, who hadn't even put her seatbelt on, screamed for dear life.

 

“Okay, maybe not  _ quite  _ so fast--” Hunk’s panicked voice came from the back seat.

 

“Hunk?? What are you--”

 

“Sorry, buddy, what was that?” A maniacal grin was plastered across the driver's face as he leaned forwards, both hands gripping the wheel tightly. “Can't quite hear you!”

 

“Please slow d--AGH!”

 

Lance spun into a sharp right turn without so much as  _ tapping _ the brakes. From directly behind Pidge's head, there was a dull  _ thud. _

 

“I'm fine!! I'm fine!”

 

“WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON??”

 

“This--” Lance made another wide turn-- “--is an intervention, Pidge. You've been working too hard.’

 

“There's no such--Hunk!!”

 

Hunk had his hands clapped over his mouth. “I'm gonna puke,” he mumbled.

 

Pidge spun towards Lance, desperate. “I thought you cared about this car. Are you really gonna get vomit all over her?”

 

“Ugh, you guys are no fun. Fine.” Lance hit the brakes, and they began cruising at a much more comfortable speed. 

 

Once the immediate crisis was averted, Pidge whipped out her phone.

 

“Whoa, hey, hey. What are you--”

 

She held it up to her ear. “Hello, Matt?”

 

Matt’s voice was bright and cheerful. “Hey, Pidge, how’s it hanging?”

 

“Well, not so good, actually. I’m--”

 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you all that well--what’s going on? Are you in a car?”

 

Pidge looked at Lance, who was innocently fiddling with the stereo system. He grinned impishly under her stony expression.

 

“Yeah, I’m being kidnapped by Hunk.”

 

Pause.

 

Matt burst out laughing. “You’re out with  _ friends _ ? That’s great, I’m so happy for you! You haven’t gone out after school in--”

 

“Matt!” Her face was red with embarrassment. “No, he’s literally kidnapping me! I don’t know where he and Lance are taking me!”

 

“Nah, Hunk would never kidnap anyone. Isn’t Lance the name of your dashing, handsome ride home?”

 

Hunk choked in the backseat; Lance’s eyebrows shot up. Pidge was ready to riot.

 

“MATT! I  _ told  _ you-- I never said--you’re the one who was joking about--Why did I even  _ call  _ you??”

 

“Are you listening to  _ Hamilton _ ?”

 

Lance had cranked up the stereo. Pidge closed her eyes and wished to be anywhere else in the galaxy.

 

“Goodbye, Matt.”

 

“See ya, little sis! Have a good time!”

 

She hung up, and slowly rotated her head until she was facing the driver’s seat.

 

“What is happening.”

 

He turned to look her directly in the eyes. Pidge felt herself shrinking beneath his cocky grin.

 

“You're coming with us on a little adventure,  _ chiquita _ .”

  
  
  



	4. Popping Some Tags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance drags the trio to a thrift store to spend the afternoon.
> 
> Pidge supposes it could be a lot worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I'M LATE! I've been really preoccupied with working almost forty hours a week this summer. I'm heading off to college in September so updating my fanfiction isn't at the top of my priorities list. :(((  
> However, I recently picked Voltron back up and I am determined to finish season eight no matter how awful it is. I also plan on revisiting any plance episodes so I can keep up my motivation to finish this one. (Any suggestions?)  
> Rest assured, it's all planned, just a matter of finishing the actual writing! (Y'all are gonna like chapter 8/9, heheheheh)

“The thrift store? Really?”

  


Lance looked up from the rack he was perusing. “Sure! You never know what you'll find.”

  


Hunk shrugged. “It goes a lot easier if you just let him have his way.” 

  


“You--” She pointed a finger-- “shut up. You were working with him.”

  


He raised his hands, somewhat guiltily. “I was worried about you! Besides, I bought you some Taco Bell on the way, didn’t I?”

  


Pidge crunched on a chicken taco and made a face. “I  _ guess _ .” she mumbled through a mouthful of food.

  


After zooming through the fast food drive-through, Lance drove the trio to the nearby Goodwill. The others weren’t ecstatic about the choice, but Pidge supposed it could be a lot worse.

  


“Guys! Guys!” Lance bounded over and proudly held up a giant coat with an ugly faux fur collar and a pair of round, silver sunglasses. “How would I look in  _ these  _ babies?”

  


“Like some kind of bizarre serial killer.” Pidge eyed the strange clothes warily. “I don’t trust anybody with this fashion sense. They probably still have bloodstains. . .”

  


“Tough beans--” Oh, no, he was putting them on-- “You’re gonna have to get used to it, this is the new me!”

  


“You look ridiculous,” she snorted.

  


“Aw, come on! Hunk?”

  


“I’m siding with Pidge on this one.” Hunk shrugged and took a sip of his soda.

  


“You aren’t going to find anything good, and neither am I.” Pidge huffed. “This is a waste of time, can we please go home?”

  


Pouting, Lance took off the sunglasses. “There’s plenty of great stuff here, come on!”

  


She gave him an unimpressed look.

  


“Here, I’ll make you a deal. If you find something you like, I’ll buy it for you.” he offered.

  


Pidge paused. “Anything?”

  


“As long as it’s less than thirty bucks, sure. But this deal comes with the agreement that you’ll model. . .” He pursed his lips, thinking. “You’ve got to model at least five things  _ I  _ pick out.”

  


She opened her mouth to say  _ no dice, cowboy, _ but stopped when she remembered her mother’s recent complaints that she didn’t have any nice dresses that she hadn’t grown out of. This would be an easy way to pick something up for free and surprise her. . . there had to be  _ some _ thing nice here.

  


“Fine.”

  


Lance whooped and bolted down the aisle. “We’re gonna find you something GREAT!”

  
  
  


“Guys?” Hunk ventured.

  


Pidge held up a sleeveless black tee shirt with a skull and gave a cackle. “I know who would wear this monstrosity.”

  


“Me too, I should buy it for him!”

  


“Not if I buy it first!” She checked the tag, then grimaced. “Nevermind, it’s twenty-five bucks.”

  


“Not worth it.”

  


“I know, right?”

  


“Guys, I think we’re pissing off the workers,” Hunk said nervously. “Should we really be taking up this hallway?”

  


“Nah, it’s fine. We’re buying stuff, aren’t we?” Lance stood up from his comfortable spot in the middle of the hall and stretched. “Hey! Let’s find the weirdest dress in this store and make Pidge try it on!”

  


“You’ve only got three try-ons left,” Pidge cautioned. He had wasted the first two on a pair of red, pointed sunglasses and a giant wig with candy corn-colored horns, respectively.

  


“Yeah, yeah,” Lance waved his hand dismissively. “Prepare to look  _ fabulous _ .”

  


She suppressed a shudder. “I think I’ll look by myself for a bit.”

  


“Whaaat, you don’t trust my fashion sense?”

  


Pidge looked down at the pink high heels and lacy skirt he was sporting and shook her head. “Not really.”

  


“Oh well, you’re missing out!” he called after her. A second or two later, he gasped hugely.

  


“What?” She turned.

  


“I found a leather jacket to go with that MCR shirt!”

  
  


The temptation was too strong. Soon, the group was trying on every ridiculous thing they could find and taking selfies, as well as posing for others to photograph them. Pidge could almost feel the heat radiating off of the furious middle-aged female employee waiting at the check-out, but for once, she was too caught up in the fun to care much about authority.

  


Hunk, however, was a different story. “Pidge, go try on your dresses!” he said finally. “Lance, we’re going to look at the art over there. You two need to chill.”

  


“Fiiiine.”

  
  
  


The store’s organization system wasn’t great, so Pidge found herself shoving aside ill-fitting dress after terribly designed dress. Barely anything was worth a second glance, much less a try-on. By the time Hunk and Lance wandered over looking for her a bit later, she’d only found about three things she was willing to put on her body at all.

  


“No luck?” Lance whistled in sympathy. “Too bad. Hunk found this awesome painting we had to show you.”

  


“It’s so scary, man!” Hunk displayed the painting, which featured a blobby, flesh colored lump with what looked like scattered red hair and a grotesque face. “Who designed this thing?”

  


“I don’t know, but that would make an amazing gift.” Pidge stared at it, transfixed. “It’s really ugly.”

  


“It totally is!” Lance grinned hugely. “Speaking of, let’s see what you’ve got. Anything good?”

  


“Not really.” Pidge held up the dresses, which were promptly snatched. Lance held them up to his face.

  


“This color doesn’t suit you at all,” he announced. “The bust’s way to huge on this one--you’ll just be uncomfortable wearing it--and this one, sorry, but you’ll trip over it.”

  


She slapped her forehead, “So I’ve really found nothing.”

  


“Nope. But I can help you look.”

  


She looked at him skeptically. Lance faked an injured expression and placed a hand on his heart. “You wound me! I was joking around before, but trust me, I am  _ really  _ good at finding good stuff in these kind of places.”

  


Pidge sighed deeply. “I’m only accepting because I’m completely lost, you know that?”

  


“Yes!” He did a fist pump. “You won’t regret it!”

  


“You two have fun,” Hunk interjected. “I’m going to see if I can find my mom a purse.”

  


He wandered off as Lance turned to the rack of dresses and regarded them with a dangerous glint in his eye.

  


“Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  
  


A few minutes later, he had an armful of dresses. Pidge couldn’t understand how he kept finding them.

  


“Ready to try them on and give us a fashion show?”

  


She grimaced. “Fashion show, my butt. We’ll see which of these my mom won’t hate.”

  


The fitting room had a strange smell to it, like mothballs and linoleum. Pidge changed as quickly as she could, avoiding looking in the mirror--it would definitely make her chicken out if she saw her own reflection.

  


Lance clapped when she finally emerged in the first dress--a pastel blue button-down with pale yellow butterflies. “Nice! Do you like it?”

  


“I dunno. It’s only fifteen bucks.” She looked down at herself, not even sure what to look for.

  


He pulled out his phone and held it up. “Mind if I take some pictures for future reference?” he asked quickly before she could open her mouth. “We can compare them all side-by-side before choosing.”

  


“Sure, yeah.”

  


The next one was a deep red with a slit up the side and a deep swoop right over her chest.

  


“Definitely not.” she said without hesitation, as soon as she was out.

  


“Yeah, no. This is the kind of dress that the woman whose rich husband was just mysteriously murdered wears. ‘Officer, I have no idea what happened,’” he faked a falsetto, “‘I woke up and he was just bleeding out on the ground!’”

  


Pidge cackled. “What kind of sick scenario is that?”

  


“Doesn’t it fit, though?”

  


“Why’d you pick it?”

  


“I thought it’d be funny to see you as the murderer wife lady from Columbo or something.”

  


“Well, thanks a lot.” She retreated back into the fitting room.

  
  


“You know, I actually really like this one.”

  


It was a navy blue knee-length dress with a thin, brown belt around the middle. It didn’t fit horribly or clash with her natural color scheme, and it was only twenty dollars.

  


“Yup, I think we’ve found a keeper!” Lance announced cheerfully. “This is a good one, all right!”

  


“Why did you even pick that paint-splattered one?”

  


“You’ve gotta grab something you know you won’t buy, or it’s not as fun.” He shrugged. “Let’s go check on Hunk, we haven’t heard from him in a while.”

  


Hunk was still in the bag section. “There aren’t any good purses, but I did find this awesome utility belt!”

  


“That looks like a belly bag,” Pidge mentioned, but Lance’s eyes lit up.

  


“That totally suits you!” he exclaimed, snatching it and holding it up. “You need to get this. It’ll totally help you with your engineering stuff, right?”

  


“Well, yeah, but it’s thirty dollars. . .”

  


“My treat.” Lance shoved it under his arm and turned away. “Let’s check out. Pidge found a great dress, by the way!”

  


“Oh, really? Good for you!”

  


The cashier gave them a dirty look as they paid, but didn’t say anything. They technically had cleaned up all the messes they made, and even if they’d spend a few hours in the store, they were paying customers, so there was nothing really to complain about. 

  


“You know,” Pidge said cautiously as they walked back to the car, “you didn’t use up your last two try-ons.”

  


“Not three?”

  


“I’m counting that awful dress you stuck in the pile, too.”

  


“Harsh, but fair.” Lance smiled. “I think I’ll save those last two for the next time we come. If you’re interested, that is.”

  


Hunk held his breath.

  


“Sure, why not.”

  


“Great! Want to go and walk around downtown with me like this? Fun doesn’t have to stop!”

  


Pidge looked over and, to her horror, Lance was pulling out the sunglasses, a hot pink leopard print fake fur scarf and matching pumps. He sat down on the blacktop and pulled the shoes on.

  


“Lance, you know I love you, dude, but what the heck are you doing?”

  


“What’d I say? Time to hit the town!”

  


“Absolutely not. I’ve gotta get home anyway.”

  


Hunk nodded quickly. “Yeah, let’s get the girl home before hatching any harebrained schemes, Lance.”

  


“Oh, ok. But one last thing--the sun’s gonna set in like, ten minutes, and I know a great place to watch.” He clasped his hands together, pleading. “I’ll get you both home straight after!”

  


Pidge and Hunk exchanged unsure glances.

  


“All right.”

  
  
  


He was right, of course. The solid old tree by the east end of the lake was a perfect spot to watch the sun set over the horizon. Lance and Pidge perched themselves in branches while Hunk opted to lean against the trunk from the soft, grassy ground. After a minute, a soft snore emitted from below, revealing to the others that their friend was down for the count.

  


It was relaxing just to sit in the silence of the outdoors. Her dad loved nature, even if Pidge didn’t, so she was trying to appreciate it a bit more, even if the thought made her sad. And sunsets were pretty okay, she supposed.

  


The only uncomfortable thing was she could feel Lance’s eyes keep flipping between her and the view. He had the expression of someone who wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if it was a good time or a good idea in general.

  


“So, Pidge.”

  


She looked at him, somewhat surprised he’d actually spoken.

  


“Yeah?”

  


“I wanted to ask you something a little weird. Is that okay?”

  


“Sure, shoot.” Pidge turned her gaze back to the sunset.

  


“You don’t have a crush on me, right?”

  
  


She sat straight up way too quickly, losing her balance and nearly falling out of the tree in surprise. "WHAT??"

   


"Sorry! I didn't mean to--" Lance reached over to help her regain her balance, but Pidge slapped his hand away. He snatched it back, eyes wide. "Sorry?"

  


“I'm. . . No,” she managed once she’d stopped coughing. “Why would you think I have a crush on you?”

  


“I don’t know, something your brother said on the phone earlier, I guess. I just--I really like hanging out with you, and I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

  


“Trust me, the  _ last  _ thing I'm going to do is get a crush on the heartbreaker of Altea High.” she informed him. “I'm smarter than that, remember?"

  


"Oh." After a second, Lance's face broke into a smile. "Okay, awesome!” 

  
  
  
  


   


Lying in bed, it suddenly occurred to her what a kind thing it was for him to do that. Make sure no feelings ever happen, make sure there wasn’t any miscommunication going on. She appreciated that, at least.

  


Lance was a good one.

  


_ No _ , Pidge thought as she drowsily closed her eyelids,  _ I don’t have anything to worry about concerning Lance McClain. _

  


_ I guess I had a pretty good day, after all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to help financially support me (so I can have more free time to write--as of now, my precious little free time is spent with my family and writing my upcoming webtoon) my [ko-fi is here](https://www.patreon.com/thecookieshop>patreon%20is%20right%20here</a>%20and%20my%20<a%20href=). I haven't quite figured out how to do everything, but I'm planning on having the upcoming chapters available to patrons first--as well as other plance & kidge oneshots, so if you're interested, feel free to let me know in the comments!
> 
> **Please take the time to[VOTE ON THIS POLL](https://www.patreon.com/posts/august-fan-29121148) for this fic if you want to see more chapters this month! I don't have time to work on them all, so whichever fic gets the most votes will get all my August effort.**
> 
> See you next chapter, and thanks again!


	5. Additional Convincing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's birthday is coming up. Thankfully, Hunk has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, yes, I AM aware that Lance's canon birthday is in July! I moved it up a bit because a) birthday arcs in fics are my FAVORITE and b) Pidge needs a bit of help in her development--she's stuck in her head and it always helps to think of others to get out of it.
> 
> Secondly, thanks to everybody for voting! And, as promised on my patreon, a big shout out to DifferentChild (A03)/ musiclostinthought (Patreon) for supporting me!

 

 

 

 

“His _birthday_??”

 

 

 

The screwdriver clattered to the table, but it couldn’t even be heard above Pidge’s shout. Hunk covered his ears.

 

 

 

“Yikes, Pidge! Yes, Lance’s birthday is coming up, so I wanted you to help me--”

 

 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Once the initial shock wore off, a slow bubble of dread began to form in Pidge’s gut. “I don't want to be caught off-guard with something like that. Do I even have to get him something. . .? We aren't even that close anyway, right?"

 

 

 

“That’s why I’m talking to you about it now.” Hunk offered her a smile. “Don’t worry, Lance is super easy to please. You don't have to buy him anything--we’re gonna do something even better!"

 

 

 

"Better than a store-bought gift?"

 

 

 

He rolled his eyes. "Lance loves food, so we're going to bake him something!”

 

 

 

“Bake?” Pidge was doubtful. “I literally have no idea how to bake. I can’t even cook ramen in a cup all that well.”

 

 

 

“It’s cup ramen, how good can it be anyway?” Hunk shook his head. “I’ll give you a ride to my place after drama, we can bring him the goods on Monday.”

 

 

 

“Sleepover?” she asked hopefully.

 

 

 

He grinned. “You up for a night of mecha anime and video games?”

 

 

 

“Am I ever!”

 

 

 

“But you do actually have to help me cook,” he finished sternly.

 

 

 

Pidge wilted.

 

 

 

“Fiiiine.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Pidge yanked her backpack up over her shoulder and strolled down the hall, close to whistling. Even she had to admit, the visible optimism was unlike her. She could almost hear Keith’s voice in her head--

 

 

 

_What, in a good mood or something?_

 

 

 

“Yeah, actually,” she answered out loud.

 

 

 

A student passing her jumped slightly and began walking a tad faster. Pidge snickered.

 

 

 

Why _was_ she in such a good mood, anyway? It wasn’t like anything had changed--college was still looming over her head. Her grades still needed to be kept up in perfect condition. Her family life was still in shambles since the accident. What was the big deal with hanging out with friends?

 

 

 

For some reason, the stress that constantly seemed to radiate from her person seemed to be dissipating.

 

 

 

Pidge gave a mental shrug and pushed open the doors to the theatre.

 

 

 

She tossed her backpack in the second to last row and glanced around for the usual early crowd. The group seemed to be concentrated in the far corner--Pidge caught a glimpse of a certain beanpole in the center and groaned aloud.

 

 

 

_Don’t tell me he’s selling drugs or something._

 

 

 

The thought made her snort. Lance wouldn’t know the first thing about _obtaining_ drugs, much less did he have the guts to try to sell anything illegal. He might not be a rule follower, but he was too much of a sweetheart for something like that.

 

 

 

She frowned, and immediately mentally backpedaled. Lance was no sweetheart; _Hunk_ was a sweetheart. Lance was just a nice enough guy. He didn’t seem like the type, that was all.

 

 

 

Lost in thought, Pidge didn’t even notice the shout-- “Hey, heads up!”--until the tiny beanbag hit her directly in the face and knocked her off-balance.

 

 

 

Stumbling backwards and clutching her nose, her foot promptly caught the row of seats directly behind, causing her to tip backwards further. Seconds later, the back of her head hit the ground and she was sprawled, upside down, legs in the air on the chair in front of her.

 

 

 

“Oh, God! Are you okay??”

 

 

 

When her eyes hazily opened, they met a pair of concerned blue ones staring directly down at her.

 

 

 

“Oh, not _you_ again.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t need to go to the doctor’s?”

 

 

 

“I’m telling you, it was just a bump on the head!” Pidge grouched, rubbing her sore spot furiously.

 

 

 

“But you could be actually injured!” Lance protested, trying for the millionth time to push her hair back and look at her injury. Pidge smacked his hand away.

 

 

 

“Quit touching me!”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry.” He paused. “I’m just really worried. It was all my fault.”

 

 

 

Pidge tch-ed and looked away. “It’s fine, you didn’t mean to. Why do you even have to play hackey sack indoors? Who even plays that anymore?”

 

 

 

Lance, despite himself, swelled with pride. “We’re trying to bring it back into fashion. It’s such a fun game, you should try it out!”

 

 

 

She snorted. “Trust me, I suck at sports. I wouldn’t be able to kick it even once.”

 

 

 

His laugh turned into an awkward, unsure cough. The onstage group’s noise drew Pidge’s attention, and she turned away from him to watch them.

 

 

 

“So, like. . . you’re sure you’re ok, right?”

 

 

 

“Trust me,” she said again, “the only thing that’s hurt is my pride.”

 

 

 

This time, his laugh lingered. “Okay, okay. I’ll just get back to work, then.”

 

 

 

“If by work you mean messing around on a stage with your friends, then yeah, get back to work.” Pidge shooed him away.

 

 

 

He shot his trademark finger guns as he jogged back to the front--backwards, still facing her. “We’re on for catching a ride together again today, right?”

 

 

 

“Oh! Right.” Pidge shook her head, and Lance stopped short. “No, I’m hanging out with Hunk tonight.”

 

 

 

“What?” A flash of something--disappointment?--crossed his face, but as soon as Pidge blinked, it was gone. “Oh, that’s cool. Maybe tomorrow, then.”

 

 

 

Before she could say another word, he was bounding off, up the stairs, and disappeared backstage.

 

 

 

Pidge blinked, and turned slightly to see a figure in the doorway behind her.

 

 

 

“What was that all about?”

 

 

 

“Hunk!” she exclaimed. “How long have you been--Did you bring the ice pack?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, here.” He tossed it. She caught it with one hand and pressed it to the back of her head, sighing deeply in relief.

 

 

 

“Now, will you answer my question? What the _heck_ was all that?”

 

 

 

“Lance was being weird, as usual. He wanted to give me a ride home and I told him we were already hanging out tonight.”

 

 

 

Hunk got a weird look on his face, like he took a bite of something he didn’t enjoy very much. Pidge knew the look well--it was his ‘I smell some BS around here’ expression.

 

 

 

“You told him we’re hanging out? _Without_ him?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, why? ‘S there something wrong with that?”

 

 

 

He shook his head. “No, there’s not. . . much. But, Pidge, you know Lance is kind of the jealous type, so. . .”

 

 

 

Pidge groaned loudly and leaned back in the chair. “Look, man. I’m pretty sure if we’ve been hanging out half the time our entire high school career, Lance isn’t gonna get possessive of you all of a sudden and think I’m trying to steal his best friend.”

 

 

 

The face came back, only slightly more squinty. Pidge squinted right back at him.

 

 

 

“What?”

 

 

 

“Nah, nothing.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Hunk’s kitchen wasn’t nearly as neat as her own, but Pidge appreciated the chaos. Her father used to make a mess in the kitchen when he set up baking soda volcano experiments on the slightest whim and burned blueberry muffins and brownies upon a whiff of a craving. Now, since her mother never seemed to find any difficulty in keeping things tidy, it felt unnatural, sanitized. Hunk’s kitchen felt a lot more like her own kitchen, before _it_ happened and home stopped feeling like home.

 

 

 

That being said, Pidge hated Hunk’s kitchen’s rules.

 

 

 

“For the last time, Pidge, just take one of the darn aprons!” He shook them at her. “It’s _important_ to me, all right?”

 

 

 

She eyed them, trying to decide which was the least grating on the eyes. The flowery pink one was a definite no-go, and the bright orange one gave her a headache. Hunk had snatched up the only decent pastel yellow one, claiming it was his “personal apron” since it was his color. She didn’t bother arguing--the conversation had occurred far too many times for her taste.

 

 

 

Finally, she picked up a navy blue one with little sailboats on it.

 

 

 

“Ah, wonderful choice. Definitely suits you.” Hunk nodded.

 

 

 

“Let’s just get to cooking already.”

 

 

 

“I hear you. What do you want to make him? Lance seems like a chocolate kind of guy to me.”

 

 

 

“Don’t you eat lunch with him?” Pidge pursed her lips in deep thought. “I think he mentioned to me once he likes Italian food.”

 

 

 

“Oh? How’d that come up?” Hunk leaned over the island, raising an eyebrow.

 

 

 

“I’m Italian, I think I said something about that once when he was on one of his rants about his _heritage_.”

 

 

 

“Nice, nice. . . I don't know much about Italian desserts, though. Any recipes come to mind?”

 

 

 

She scrunched up her nose. “Tiramisu. . . Do you have espresso?”

 

 

 

“Um, no.”

 

 

 

“Well,” she considered, “we can always make cannolis, but those are kinda a huge hassle. It might be better to just go with an old standby.”

 

 

 

“Why don’t we just make cupcakes?” Hunk suggested. “We can give him a rain check on the Italian dessert. I like experimenting as much as the next aspiring chef, but we need to make sure this’ll be good.”

 

 

 

“Sounds good to me.” Pidge smiled.

 

 

 

 

It was nice of him to invite her over to help, but she didn’t end up doing much except mixing. Pidge ended up perched up on the island, watching him work. Hunk was fun to watch in the kitchen.

 

 

 

But she was still feeling a bit out of place.

 

 

 

“Should I grab something for you, or…?”

 

 

 

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it! I want you to make the icing.” Hunk beamed as he whipped the eggs.

 

 

 

“How do I do that?”

 

 

 

“Here.” He tossed a stick of butter. She caught them. “Start creaming this in that bowl beside you.”

 

 

 

“So,” Pidge began as she turned on the electric mixer, “did you end up giving that painting to somebody?”

 

 

 

“What? No, it’s still in my closet. Locked in my closet.” He shuddered visibly.

 

 

 

“Can’t believe you actually bought it.”

 

 

 

“It’s kind of a keepsake. I’ll cherish it forever, even if it is ugly as an alien with plastic surgery.”

 

 

 

“A keepsake?” Pidge stopped the mixer, examined the butter, and turned it back on. “What for?”

 

 

 

“Oh, you know. Our first real hangout, all three of us. As a squad.”

 

 

 

She stopped.

 

 

 

“Pidge?”

 

 

 

“Should I be adding sugar to this, or what?”

 

 

 

Hunk squinted.

 

 

 

“Confectioner’s sugar is in the cabinet right above you.”

 

 

 

“Thanks.” She pulled it down and dumped the whole bag in.

 

 

 

“. . . You realize we really, really do like hanging out with you, right?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, well.”

 

 

 

She was too focused on creaming together the sugar and butter to notice the exasperated look on Hunk’s face.

 

 

 

“What color do you think we should use for the icing?” he asked, dropping it.

 

 

 

“Blue,” she replied instantly.

 

 

 

“Blue?”

 

 

 

“His car, obviously.” She rolled her eyes, still focusing on her task. “It’s, like, his favorite thing in the world.”

 

 

 

Hunk smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Around 2AM, in the middle of the construction of an extensive farm with the potatoes and carrots Pidge had swiped from a nearby village, Hunk decided to bring it up again. His knack for sensing moments of weakness had never failed him yet.

 

 

 

“You really should start sitting with us at lunch, you know.”

 

 

 

“Nah,” she replied blearily.

 

 

 

“No, really. Lance would be really happy to have you there, I know. I would.”

 

 

 

“You’re in the middle of the whole room. Everybody constantly goes up and talks to Lance, I’ve seen it. He’s got so many people who want his attention. I’m not going to be in the way of that.”

 

 

 

“He likes you, Pidge. We like you. We want to hang out with you. If you told him having ten different conversations at once bugs you, he’ll stop doing it--at least during the lunches you sit with us.”

 

 

 

“He doesn’t want to curb his social butterfly personality for me,” she murmured. “And I don’t want to curb my antisocial personality for him. It’s fine, what we have right now works.”

 

 

 

“Why won’t you just give it a try?” he coaxed. “I’ll give you food.”

 

  

“. . . What kind of food?”

 

 

 

Hunk fell silent. Pidge continued to till the land and plant crops.

 

 

 

“I’ll bring you in some chocolate chip cookies.”

 

 

 

“Sure,” she said, closing her eyes.

 

 

 

“You falling asleep?”

 

 

 

“Mmmm.”

 

 

 

“Night, Pidge. Disconnect your player so you don’t get killed by a creeper.”

 

 

 

She snuggled up in the comforter and pressed her head against the sofa armrest, not bothering to reply.

 

 

 

“Fine, I’ll do it for you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Hunk’s mother called up from the kitchen that the pancakes were ready, Pidge was up and off the sofa much quicker than usual. She washed up in the bathroom before her friend even rose from his slumber, and was well into her second helping of breakfast before he managed to lumber up the stairs from the basement.

 

 

 

“Dang, Pidge, why are you up so fast?” he mumbled. “You were awake past two in the morning!”

 

 

 

Pidge glanced up from her plate of pancakes and sausages.

 

 

 

“I’ve got to head out to the store before the usual rush,” she answered with her mouth full.

 

 

 

Hunk’s mouth fell open. “What? The store? _You’re_ going _shopping_?”

 

 

She shook her head, as if it were obvious.

 

“I have to find a real gift for Lance if I’m gonna be sitting with you at lunch on Monday, don’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much, DifferentChild (A03)/ musiclostinthought (Patreon) for supporting me and this fanfiction!  
> And if you, too, want access to new chapters early, [head on over there and become a patron](https://www.patreon.com/thecookieshop)\--even a donation of _$1 a month_ gets you early access!
> 
> I hope all of you have a lovely day! :)


	6. Of Butterflies and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's birthday arrives! Will Pidge be able to get up the courage to give him his gift? 
> 
> Well, why wouldn't she? It's not like she _likes_ him or something. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!! This fic is NOT dead yet, I swear I'll see it to the end. There's a few scenes in particular I'm VERY excited about writing. Warm fuzzies, innocent kindness, and awkward feelings abound!
> 
> Hey, random reader! This chapter was published a whole week ago on my patreon, available to all patrons, even $1 tiers! Hint hint.

Pidge checked and double-checked that the messily wrapped box was still in her backpack several times. Butterflies were totally normal when you were giving a new friend a gift, right? 

 

. . . Oh, geez, he was going to hate it.

 

She smacked her forehead. What was she going to do? How dumb did she have to be to make a promise like that? Sitting with the boys during lunch was going to be torture.

 

Dang it, she couldn’t even focus on the english teacher’s lecture about Aristotle’s order of the soul. Shame, it seemed pretty interesting.

 

Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out.

 

 

Hunk: what’s going on?? you look like you’re gonna be sick!

 

 

She cast a quick glance at the back row where Hunk sat. He raised an eyebrow at her.

 

 

You: I’m fine, I’m just nervous.

Hunk: yeah, right. nervous about what?

You: ...

Hunk: ????

You: Lunch. Obviously.

 

 

She heard a huge sigh from behind and stifled a scowl.

 

 

Hunk: it’s gonna be fine.

Hunk: quit trying to take my crown as World’s Biggest Worrywart. you can’t have it, it’s mine!!

 

 

She smiled at that.

 

 

You: Ok, fine. I’ll stop worrying.

Hunk: good! insecure pidge isn’t fun. 

Hunk: I’ll take pompous smarty-pants pidge any day.

You: Ok, time to shut up.

Hunk: :P

 

 

In the hallway after, Hunk caught up to her immediately.

 

“All right, to the cafeteria!” he cheered.

 

Pidge fell back a step. “I--uh--I think I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right th--”

 

In an instant, she felt an arm snake around hers and lift her up.

 

“Hunk, get her other side!” Lance called.

 

Pidge’s eyes widened comically as Hunk caught her other arm and the two heaved her up. All of a sudden, her legs were dangling half a foot above the ground. Why were her friends so _tall_??

 

“So! Trying to bail on me, hmmm?” Lance grinned. “And on my birthday, no less.”

 

“Aah! No, I wasn’t--I was just--”

 

“And I was so excited to have you sit with us, too.” He sighed in mock-defeat. “Guess the only way to get time with the elusive Katie Holt is to kidnap her, huh!”

 

“Uuugh!”

 

Hunk stifled a laugh. The sound drew Lance’s attention from the girl they were swinging along with them, and he brightened up.

 

“Hunk! Somebody’s gonna swipe our table, we have to hurry!”

 

“On it--”

 

Their pace picked up dramatically, and Pidge couldn’t help but yelp when they pushed past a pair of teachers who gave them the stink eye.

 

“Hey! What’s going on, Lance?” Mr. Shirogane called sternly as they sprinted past him.

 

“Just taking my friend to lunch, Shiro!” he replied cheekily. Hunk laughed outright.

 

Pidge glanced up at his face--he was exerting effort, but he barely looked flushed and only a hint of sweat glistened his brow. His expression was focused and lively, and his blue eyes were. . . rather pretty from close up. The split second she realized she was staring, those eyes flicked to her, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

 

She scowled and looked away.

 

 

Of course their table wasn’t taken. Everyone knew Lance McClain’s table was in the center of the cafeteria--and the center of attention.

 

Lance gestured for her to follow him as he rose to pick up his food in the lunch line, but Pidge shook her head and raised her lunchbox. (Never again was she going to forget it and have to eat cafeteria food.) For a moment, his brow furrowed as he glanced between her and Hunk, who was settling down beside her, but once she blinked it had passed, and he was on his way. 

 

Must have been her imagination.

 

Pidge hunkered down beside her friend and unwrapped her sandwich.

 

“Not too bad, right?” Hunk said conversationally.

 

She was about to take a bite, but she lowered her food in favor of sighing hugely. “No, the crowd’s following Mr. McClain.” Pidge jabbed a thumb towards the lunch line, where the man in question stood entertaining no less than _seven people_ crowded around him.

 

“Oh, yeah.” Naturally, his mouth was already full of food. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon.”

 

That’s _not what I’m worried about, doofus._

 

“I’m sure.”

 

A minute or so later, a tray slammed down directly beside her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

 

“Lance!” she hissed.

 

He laughed, loudly. “You can’t yell at me today! Didn’t you hear it’s _my_ day, _chica_?”

 

She almost asked why he didn’t sit down beside Hunk, but bit her tongue. _An instinct to be rude is why people don’t like you, Pidge._ She merely stared glumly down at her sandwich, which she had crushed between her hands the moment she was startled, and took another bite. Gradually, the seats around them filled up with chattering students bearing birthday well-wishes.

 

At first, she was more comfortable than she expected, especially with Hunk on her right and Lance on her left, protecting her from the onslaught of noise--and in Lance’s case, drowning it out.

 

(Though she pretended not to notice the flip-flopping in her gut at all the girls who showed up and suddenly wanted to talk to him. She pretended not to notice how they subtly looked her up and down, measuring her up against themselves. What was the fuss all about, anyway?)

 

It wasn’t too hard to ignore when she paid close attention to her lunch, but even Pidge was a bit ruffled when one of the girls physically pushed herself between her and Lance. 

 

“How’s the show going?” she asked, leaning on the table in the space between them.

 

Pidge stabbed the fork into her salad a bit more violently than quite necessary.

 

“Oh, it’s going great,” Lance replied suavely, leaning back a tad. “What else can you expect, though? We’ve got the best cast, the best crew. . .”

 

Pidge shoveled a forkful of lettuce into her mouth and began chewing mercilessly.

 

“You’re such a jerk!” the girl giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. He grinned back at her, causing the rest of the small group to laugh.

 

“Who says I was complimenting myself?” he said.

 

Pidge swallowed hard, and hurt her throat.

 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” another girl teased. “How’s it going with Allura~?”

 

Pidge, needing a drink to soothe her burning throat, reached and accidently knocked over her water bottle, causing a dull _thud_. An immediate silence fell around the table as all eyes swiveled towards the source of the sound. 

 

Her throat constricted.

 

“Oh, jeez! Pidge, are you ok?” Lance grabbed it and held it out to her, face spelling _worry_. “Is something bugging you?”

 

“No, of course not.” Her voice came out a bit harsher than she imagined it, but she turned right back to her salad.

 

After a second, he turned back to the group. “Mind giving us some space?” he suggested, his tone light. “It’s kinda cramped today.”

 

Reluctantly, the majority of the crowd moved away, allowing the boy to turn his attention back to his friends. He leaned towards Pidge conspiratorially.

 

“Man, what a racket!” he muttered, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You’re the one who draws them in with your sickeningly good social skills,” Pidge retorted, not unkindly.

 

He grinned. Hunk laughed.

 

“Oh, Lance! Pidge and I have something for you!” he beamed and opened his backpack. “Cupcakes!”

 

“Oh, man--thank you so much!”

 

Pidge brightened up a bit while Lance gushed over the desserts. (“These are the best cupcakes I’ve ever had--did you guys really make them from scratch??”)

 

She almost forgot about the gifts she had for him until he turned to her expectantly. 

 

"Well?" he said, smiling expectantly. "You didn't forget to get me a present, did you?"

 

Pidge opened her mouth to say _of_ course _not, you're the first friend I've gotten since Matt left for college, not to mention the first person to take serious interest in me, as a person, and pay attention the way you do. You make me feel happy when I'm with you, even when you're annoying me. How could I forget to get you a gift?_

 

The cafeteria churned with noise and activity. Pidge could tell several girls were watching from a few tables away, not to mention the rest of the crowd.

 

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said.

 

His face dropped. "Really? Aw, man."

 

Hunk was looking quizzically at her, but Pidge forced a neutral expression.

 

The rest of the students seated around them began talking again, and the level of chatter slowly went back to normal. But Pidge couldn't shake the feeling that Lance seemed a bit less cheerful than before.

 

She must have been imagining it. He was back to normal by rehearsals, even if he was overacting a bit more than usual.

 

 

Pidge had opted to sit in the balcony above today. It had nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to avoid a few suddenly friendly girls who hadn’t even graced her with so much as a glance before today. Absolutely nothing.

 

Today, she was spending her time going through free sound effect samples on the internet, trying to narrow down the choices they had for the show. Pidge had watched enough of Matt’s shows to understand that a sound effect could completely make or break the mood of the scene. Although it was a less than riveting experience to sit and listen to what sounded like the _same dang thing_ over and over again. It was a bit exhausting, but she kept forcing herself to listen to just one more. Just one more. . .

 

To her surprise, the sensation of cushioning around her ears vanished as the headphones were lifted off of her ears from behind. Pidge snapped her hands to her ears and swiveled around, face already forming a glare.

 

To her surprise, it was Lance who stood there, twiddling his thumbs. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” she replied, confused. “What. . . what do you need?”

 

“Rehearsal’s over. You must’ve been really focused on. . . whatever it was you were doing, you didn’t hear me calling you from below!”

 

Lance, calling her name while she was on the balcony? She flushed immediately. “That’s dumb, I had my headphones on.”

 

“Well, yeah, I know that now!” He looked slightly aggravated, and maybe a little embarrassed. 

 

Pidge picked up her phone, and blinked. “Wow, it’s that late already?”

 

“Yeah, and I’ve gotta get home. My family’s cooked a lot of food, and they’re waiting for me!” Lance beckoned to her, already halfway out the door. “I’m kinda in a hurry, _chica_. Let’s go!”

 

_That’s right, it’s his birthday._ Pidge’s chest felt heavy with guilt for losing track of time, but she quickly gathered her things and followed him down the stairs.

 

They were somewhat quiet in the car. Lance didn’t seem to have anything to blabber about today, so he just bobbed his head along to the music, mouthing the words silently. Pidge clutched her backpack to her chest awkwardly, painfully aware of the package inside.

 

He was clearly a little annoyed, how could she give it to him _now_?

 

“Um. . . Can I ask you something?”

 

She jumped. “Oh! Yeah, sure, of course.”

 

Lance cleared his throat and looked out the window. “You’re friends with Allura, right?”

 

Her heart sunk. Pidge blinked, surprised at the feeling, and forced a neutral tone. “I mean, I wouldn’t really call us friends. I’ve talked to her before.”

 

More like she’d tried to make conversation on occasion, with Pidge inevitably (and accidently) shutting her down.

 

“Well, I was just wondering. If she’d ever said, uh, anything. About. You know!”

 

Yes, she did know.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Me!” he blurted, face flushed completely. “I was wondering if she’d ever said anything about me.”

 

Pidge stared out the window of the car. She’d misread his demeanor--he wasn’t angry, which was a relief. But now she thought it might be better if he _had_ been mad at her about the gift thing.

 

“Well, it’s annoying how you flirt with every girl you meet.” she said finally. Lance’s head popped up.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, it’s annoying that you pay so much attention to every girl who looks in your direction.” Pidge sighed. “If you paid special attention to her, saved that affection for her, I bet she’d pay more attention to you. As it is, Allura’s not the type of person to waste time flirting with some ladykiller.”

 

“I am _not_ a ladykiller!” Lance was indignant.

 

“My point still stands. She doesn’t think you actually like her.”

 

“What? But I’ve been so obvious!” he exclaimed, incredulous.

 

Pidge merely shrugged.

 

“. . . I mean, if _you_ think it’s a good idea, then. . . I can try it. I like being friendly to everybody, though! I don't think I can just stop. . .”

 

“You can be friendly, just don’t be _winking_ at them all day long!” she snapped.

 

Lance raised an eyebrow, but apparently decided not to comment on her sudden anger. “Okay. I’ll give it a try. Should I ask her out tomorrow?”

 

“Give it a week,” she instructed. “You have to make sure she has time to notice the difference in your attitude.”

 

“And you really think she might like me back then?”

 

His voice was so hopeful, Pidge had to sigh.

 

“You know what? I think she might.”

 

“Then, that’s the best birthday present you could possibly give me.” Lance concluded, reaching over to ruffle her hair. She swatted him away.

 

“Birthday-- oh. I got you a present, I just didn’t want to give it to you with the crowd of teenagers.” Pidge told him, and Lance nearly missed a stop sign, slamming on the brakes late. Her shoulders flew forward, and she just managed to slam her hands down on the dash to stop herself from hitting it.

 

“Hey!” she complained angrily, but Lance’s face was lit up.

 

“You _did_ get me a present?” he exclaimed. “I thought you forgot!!”

 

“How could I forget? You’re too much of a nuisance to forget about. Here.” She pulled it out of her backpack, heart feeling a bit lighter than before.

 

When Lance let go of the steering wheel with one hand to grab it, she smacked him. “Ow!”

 

“You can open it when we get to my house, doofus!”

 

Of course, she regretted it a second later, because he hit the gas. Blue screeched and accelerated; the back of Pidge’s head hit the headrest.

 

_Maybe I should have waited until we’d stopped the car,_ she grumbled in her head.

 

But Pidge had to admit, it was nice to have him so excited on her behalf. Maybe he _had_ been a little more upset than he’d let on. . . 

 

 

Lance parked and immediately reached for her, doing grabby hands. She plunked the box down in his arms, and within a second he was violently ripping off the wrapping paper.

 

Inside the medium-sized cardboard box, Pidge had piled an assortment of gifts. Most were somewhat cheap, the most expensive being a full CD box set for some new musical that looked like something he’d enjoy. All of them were things that reminded her of him--the big, blue box of skittles; the chocolate brown teddy bear; the oversized mug sporting a witty pun. Pidge chewed her lip and watched as he lifted the lid.

 

And suddenly, it was as if she was never worried, because she could see his blue eyes light up with unadulterated delight. He exclaimed over the assortment and gave the stuffed bear in particular a tight, affectionate squeeze. He put on the stupid round sunglasses she’d went back to the thrift store to pick up since he’d spend half the time walking around in them-- after he put them back and walked outside, he’d screamed that the sun was blinding him.

 

When he got to the CD, he dropped it back in the box and shoved it away quickly. A shot of painful apprehension went through her heart like ice, but his movement was to get the stuff out of the way so he could lean over and give her a big hug.

 

“Thank you so much, you’re the best!”

 

And when he said it like that, she almost believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my patrons, Musiclostinthought and Joe! (Joe _who_ , you ask? Well--)
> 
> Again, if you want early access to chapters of this fic--not to mention a vote in the fics I work on next, and personalized prizes, consider becoming my patron! I'm a full time COLLEGE student now, not to mention I'm working part time as well, so it takes a lot to sit down and write between homework, personal life, and everything else. If you can't help financially, comments help motivate me more than you can imagine!
> 
> Anyway, shameless plug aside, I hope you have a lovely day!


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